The Story of a Man
by Bombshell1701
Summary: How Phil Coulson came to be such a fan of Captain America- the Capt isn't Phil's only hero. Shamelessly sentimental oneshot. Set several years before, and during the events of the film. Rated T for mild adult themes. Feedback welcome.


**The Story of a Man**

**1973**

"Is your leg ouchy, Grampy Joe?" Phil asked, his young face creased with worry.

Joe gave the boy a reassuring smile as he gently massaged the stump at the end of his right thigh.

"It's nothing to worry about, kiddo. Now, c'mere, I've got something very special to show you."

He helped Phil climb up next to him on the sofa, and once the boy was comfortably settled, he reached over to the side table and picked up the items stacked there. He arranged them neatly on his lap, and held up the top one for Phil to see.

"Hey! It's a comic book!" Phil exclaimed.

Joe handed the small paper book to Phil with a delicacy bordering on reverence.

"Oh, kid... this isn't just a comic book. This is a _Captain America_ comic book."

Phil looked thoughtful. "Who's Captain America?"

Joe smiled indulgently at his grandson. "Captain America is my hero..."

He rested the comic on one hand so both he and Phil could see it, and gently opened it to the first page. "Why don't we read it together, and then I'll tell you a story?"

Phil smiled.

"_There was a kid called Joe. He was sixteen years old and had just started work in a cannery. There was a war going on, and a lot of men from his neighbourhood had already gone to fight, and a lot of them never came home again; but Joe didn't know what to think of it. It seemed a long way away from him._

_And then one day, something happened... he picked up a comic off a news stand so he'd have something to read on the bus ride home. It was called _Captain America_, and it was the story of a regular man who became a hero for his country._

_That comic changed everything for Joe. Suddenly he knew exactly how he felt about that war, and exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to be a hero, just like Captain America. _

_So he pretended to be old enough to fight, and joined the army. He got sent off to Camp Lehigh for basic training- just like his hero- and it was tough. _

_But every night before bed Joe read about his hero, and that got him through. It didn't matter that the other soldiers laughed at him- they thought Captain America was a joke an and a fake, and teased Joe for reading the comics and watching the movies- but Joe didn't care. _

_He knew Captain America was a true hero, and he was going to be just like him."_

**1980**

Phil grinned and shook his head. "It doesn't matter how many times I read them, they're still really nifty!"

He gently placed the last comic back on the stack inside the storage box, and then slipped the lid on with a satisfied sigh.

"Well, I'm glad you haven't grown out of them" Joe admitted.

"Never" Phil vowed. He leaned forward and rested his chin on the box. "These would be worth a fortune, you know. Well, they would be if they were in better condition. But with us reading them over and over again..."

Joe chuckled "Well, let's just call them a family heirloom."

"And hope Grandma never throws them out."

"We'd never forgive her! Heirlooms have to be handed down from generation to generation."

"Hey, can I have them when you-" Phil caught himself, his eyes went wide and his face flushed.

Joe smirked at him. "Of course you can. But I plan on sticking around a while longer, so you'll have to be content with just sharing them with me for now."

Phil looked chagrined, but he forced a smile. "Reading them wouldn't be the same without you, Grampy" he murmured.

"_Well, a few months later Joe's training ended, and he and all his his unit and hundreds of other men got put on troop ships and sent over to Britain. A big operation was being planned, but Joe and all those other soldiers had to wait to see where they would be sent. _

_That waiting was the worst part. The inaction made everyone scared and angry; but there were the newsreels to entertain them. Twice a week they screened movies and news in the mess-hall, and you know who they always featured in the newsreels? Captain America, that's who. _

_By then everyone had heard stories about The Cap and the Howling Commandos. By then the other soldiers knew he was more than just some pretty-boy in tights. He inspired everyone with his bravery and his skills. He made us all remember why we were there, and we all wanted to be just like him._

_Joe's unit got packed up and sent out, dropped behind enemy lines. So while our boys were pushing towards Paris, many more were jumping out of planes at night over the French countryside, pushing towards them as reinforcements. But there were a lot of Germans to get through, and they weren't going to give up without a fight."_

**1994**

"Are you sure it's what you want to do?"

Phil nodded thoughtfully. "It's a way for me to serve my country."

Joe's mouth tightened, but he didn't say anything.

"I know" Phil said with a sigh. "It's not the same... it's not the same as how you served your country... but it's a different world we live in now."

"Not _that_ different" Joe muttered.

Phil smiled slightly. "I think I can make a difference. Do important work."

Joe considered that. "This SHIELD just sounds like a lot of bureaucracy to me. You sure you want to drive a desk for the rest of your life?"

"I won't be behind a desk for long, Grampa. When they recruited me, they said it was because I have aptitude that would suit a field agent. I just have to get through training and a probationary period. Then it's less bureaucracy and more sneaking around."

Joe chuckled. "Field work. Sneaking around. Sounds dangerous. But if anyone in this family is wily enough..."

"Gosh, I wonder where I get that from?" Phil said with a tiny smile.

"It's my fault I suppose... showing you those Captain America comics, filling your head with adventures and heroics and silliness-"

"There's nothing silly about those comics, Grampa" Phil said gravely. "They taught me- _you_ taught me- about bravery, and duty, and friendship. Those things still matter."

Joe's eyes shone with pride.

"_Joe's unit got pinned down in a small town about two hundred miles from Paris. You could tell it had been a beautiful place once, but by this stage it had been shelled all to hell. _

_Those Germans came up fast, and the Allies there had to scramble to get out. _

_The road leading out, towards Paris, was clear, and they got going in tanks and Jeeps and trucks, but there were a lot of men on foot, and they needed to buy some time. _

_The road leading into the town was mostly shelled out, blocked by a bunch of rubble and severely bottlenecked- and the Germans could only come on foot in a trickle. _

_But if they got in, they were going to get our boys before they could clear out. _

_Now, Joe was good with a rifle, and he was reckoned by everyone in his unit to be a crack shot, so he grabbed up his gun and a bunch of ammunition, and he went up to the highest vantage point he could find, on the roof of a bombed-out hotel, about three stories up. _

_And while the men in his unit high-tailed it to safety, Joe took cover and picked the Germans off, one by one, as they came through._

_He held that corridor for nearly half an hour, and finally, he ran out of bullets. _

_So he fixed his bayonet to his rifle, and waited for the rest of the Germans to come through and find him. _

_The Germans came through all right, like bats out of hell; but they kept right on the heels of the Allies who were heading to Paris. _

_Joe was still there, hiding on the roof, and the Germans didn't seem to pay him any mind. _

_That is, until the last group of them came through, clearing the way for their tanks and trucks, and as they ploughed their way through, someone seemed to remember he was up there, and threw a grenade up onto the roof."_

**1996**

"I'm so proud of you, kiddo. Top of your class."

Phil shrugged, but he couldn't keep the proud grin off his face. He knelt down and gently hugged the frail man in the wheelchair.

"I'm so glad you could be here, Grampa" he murmured.

"Ah, hell, nothing was going to keep me from seeing my grandson graduate from one of the toughest training academies in the world. And now here you are- a fully qualified SHEILD agent" Joe said seriously.

Phil smiled warmly.

"Did they give you your badge?"

Phil reached into his jacket and produced his identification card and SHEILD badge, then held them out for Joe to inspect.

The old man whistled. "That sure is something. And now you can go out to go out in the world, and serve your country. You'll be a hero. Just like Captain America."

"Just like _you_" Phil said proudly.

"_Joe lay there all night, going in and out of consciousness. There wasn't much he could do about his leg, but he'd managed to work a tourniquet onto it, I suppose. The shock and pain was so bad he didn't really know what was going on. Joe lay there all night, waiting to die. _

_When the dawn came the next day, Joe was still alive. He could hear people moving around in the shell of the building below him. He figured it was more Germans, and that this time his number was really up. He waited. _

_The man who found him wasn't a German, that was for sure. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, but beneath that, Joe could see the Stars and Stripes. The man's face was covered with some kind of mask, but his eyes were confident and calm. Joe knew exactly who the man was... his hero. _

_Joe tried to tell The Captain what had happened, but he was injured and confused, and didn't know what he was saying; still, the Captain listened carefully to him as he dressed Joe's wound, and he told Joe he would be all right._

_Joe knew he was safe then, because The Captain was there. Once Joe's leg was bandaged, The Captain picked him up, and because they didn't have a stretcher or a Jeep, The Captain carried Joe. _

_He carried him for hours, not ever stopping to rest, never asking any of his men to help. _

_The Captain carried Joe nearly two hundred miles to an Allied hospital just outside Paris._

_And all the time The Captain talked to Joe, told him about growing up in Brooklyn, talked about baseball, talked about the training they'd both done at Lehigh, kept Joe awake, alive. _

_And when he handed Joe over to the doctors, you know what he said to him? _

"_You're a hero, soldier. You saved a lot of lives.""_

**2004**

It broke Phi's heart. He swallowed hard and stepped into the room.

"Hey, Grampa" he said. He sat down gently on the edge of the hospital bed, and looked at the frail, sunken body of the man.

"Hey, kiddo" Joe rasped. "Good to see you."

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to get here."

"Don't sweat it, Phil. You were on assignment. I'm amazed you could even get away."

"I didn't-" Phil broke off. He didn't know what to say.

With some effort, Joe reached over and patted his grandson's hand.

"Hey, c'mon" Phil said, reaching down and taking the old man's cold, bony hand in his own. "You're not supposed to exert yourself."

Joe chuckled, and the chuckle turned into a painful cough. Phil poured his grandfather a small cup of water, and helped him sit up to drink it.

"I stopped by the storage unit on the way over, and liberated a couple of old friends" Phil said. He reached into his satchel and produced several of the _Captain America_ comics.

"Ah... it's been a while" Joe said, smiling.

"Too long." Phil murmured. He looked tenderly at Joe.

"Remember when I was little, and you and I would sit next to each other on the couch, and you would read them to me? Maybe I could return the favour?"

"I'd really like that" Joe said.

They read through the comics together, and by the end, Joe's eyes were shining with tears.

"I have to tell you something, Phil" Joe said

Phil set the stack of comics aside.

Joe swallowed, his eyes full of regret. "The story I always told you... about how I lost my leg, about how it was Captain America who found me, saved me..." he shook his head. Phil watched him patiently.

"I don't know if it was The Captain."

"What do you mean?" Phil prodded.

Joe smiled sadly. "At this time, I would have sworn up and down that Captain America found me in that shelled-out little town, and carried me to safety. But now... well, kiddo, I've had a lot of time to think about it. I was so badly injured, I'd lost a lot of blood. I don't know if I can trust my memory.

I think maybe I hallucinated. I think maybe I was in so much pain... I imagined it was my hero who found me. But really, it could have been anyone. And all this time I've believed my own lie."

"No" Phil said gently. "I'm sure you remember just fine. I'm sure it was The Captain..."

Joe shook his head sadly. "I just don't know, Phil. And what's worse is that I made you believe a... a...lie"

"It's not a lie" Phil said firmly. "Grampa, it was so long ago... it doesn't even matter."

"It matters to me. I've set you up with this image in your head, based on something that maybe didn't happen. That's not right. I had to tell you, Phil. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No, grampa. Don't apologise, not for anything. I don't care who it was that carried you out, all I care is that you lived. Even if it wasn't Captain America, he was still a hero to you when you needed one. And you've carried that on, and been a hero to me when I've needed one. All I can hope is that one day I can live up to the two of you."

Tear ran down Joe's face, and he squeezed Phil's hands.

… ... …

Phil stayed at his grandfather's bedside until the man fell asleep.

A kindly nurse warned Phil that Joe might never wake again, but encouraged him to continue talking and reading to the old man, as Joe could probably still hear him in some way.

Joe lingered for several days, and during that time Phil continued to visit, reading and re-reading the _Captain America_ comics to his grandfather.

Phil had just once again finished reading out the final issue of the comic when Joe's story ended.

**2011**

"Are you sure about this?" Fury asked.

"It's an honour, sir. I'll sit with him as long as you need me to."

Fury looked carefully at Phil. "You need to understand that he might never wake up. He's been out for a very long time. The doctors won't know until they can get him back to Medical and run more tests"

Phil nodded. "It's okay. There's a lot I'd like to say to him. It'll be good for him to know that he's being looked after. He must've been so lonely for so long."

Almost anyone else would have looked at Phil like he was crazy, but Fury understood. He gave the other man a neat nod and left him.

Phil drew in a deep breath and entered the medical bay. He stopped just inside the door and looked at the man lying in the bed. He looked simply as though he were asleep, tucked under a neatly folded sheet.

The medical equipment he was hooked up to belied the image.

An IV drip was plugged into the back of his left hand. A web of ECG monitors were attached to his bare chest, and a cluster of EEG circuits disappeared into his hair, recording his brain activity.

The wall behind the bed was crowded with machines that analysed every aspect of his physical condition, and they beeped and pinged reassuringly.

The sight was painfully familiar to Phil, yet extraordinarily unique. He almost couldn't believe his eyes. He blinked back tears and shook his head, but no, he wasn't imagining this.

With a sigh, he stepped closer and looked at the man. He looked so young, so peaceful. There was no sign of injury or deterioration. He looked like he'd stepped out of a photograph and into real life.

"Oh, Grampy Joe, I wish you were here so I could tell you we found him" Phil whispered.

Phil stepped up to the man's bedside. He reached up and very gently touched the young man's hand. It was icy cold, and Phil fought back a shiver.

"Captain Rogers. It's an honour to meet you, sir. My name is Agent- my name is Phil Coulson. I'm sorry it took so long for us to find you. You're safe now. If you don't mind, I'm going to keep you company for a while, until you're ready to wake up again."

Phil turned and pulled a chair closer to the bed, then sat. He opened his attachè case and withdrew some items.

"I thought you might like me to read to you? I hope you don't mind, but I brought comics, some old favourites of mine. And then after I read them, I'd like to tell you a story about a man who was another one of my heroes..."

**2012**

"Ready?" Phil asked.

"As I'll ever be" Captain America said with a grim smile.

Phil gave him a curt nod. He tried unsuccessfully to drag his eyes away. The sight of his hero in full uniform-which he'd helped design- was almost too much for him.

He actually had butterflies in his stomach from all the emotions playing through him. If he could keep his eyes dry it would be a major achievement.

"You okay?" The Captain asked.

"Yes" Phil said quickly. There was an awkward pause. "I'm staring, aren't I?"

Cap smiled. "A little."

Phil shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cap."

"It's okay. Don't apologise." Cap said mildly.

Phil was thoughtful for a moment. He was aching to ask Captain Rogers a question, but the soldier was just about to drop into a dangerous situation for the first time in nearly seventy years, and he didn't want to rattle the man's cage.

"Five minutes to target" Black Widow called from the cockpit. "We'll bring you in as close as we can to the plaza."

"Copy that" The Captain answered. He picked up his shield and fixed it to his left wrist.

Phil looked at him and swallowed the lump in his throat. He'd been trying for years to get information on the Captain's whereabouts in Europe at the time his grandfather was also serving, but even after all this time that information was still classified. The only way he'd ever know for certain was if he asked the man himself...

For some reason it felt like now or never, and Phil_ had_ to know.

"Captain... I'm sorry to keep bothering you... but, can I ask you a question? It's... about the war. About something that happened..."

"Of course" The Cap said.

"You were in Paris for the liberation, weren't you?"

"I was. My unit and I were part of the Allied Forces who re-took the city."

Phil nodded, considering his question. "About a week before liberation... in a small town, about two hundred miles east of Paris, there was a man, a US soldier who had been injured by a grenade whilst holding off a company of German soldiers so his unit could escape.

His lower right leg had been blown off, but somehow... somehow he managed to survive. And somebody picked him up and carried him all the way to a field hospital..." Phil's shoulders were heaving with emotion, and he struggled to keep himself in check. "Did you... do you remember? Was it you who..."

The Captain thought hard for a moment. "He was up on top of a building, I think he'd been picking off German as they came though, but a grenade had damn near killed him. I was amazed he made it to the hospital." He looked hard at Phil. "Joe. I think that was his name. He told me he was a Yankees fan, but I didn't hold that against him."

Phil sat down hard on the bench and let out a shaky sigh.

The Captain watched him, his expression soft. "He was someone to you?"

"That was my grandfather" Phil breathed.

The Captain nodded, an array of emotions playing across his face. "He was a young guy... he made it through?"

Phil's expression lightened. "Yeah. He lost the lower part of his leg, spent some time in hospital before being shipped back... but he was fine... he was good."

The Captain smiled warmly at Phil. "How about that? You know, I always felt guilty that I never got a chance to check up on him after taking him in to the medics. I worried how he faired, but we just got so busy with the liberation of Paris, all the planning and strategy..."

"You saved his life, Cap. You were his hero... and I really understand why. You got him through- not just that injury... but through the whole war, and for years after. He never let losing his leg hold him back. He came home, became a school teacher, got married and had kids. You know, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be having this conversation" Phil said with a wry smile.

The Captain looked stunned. "Your grandfather was the one who was the hero. All I did was carry him a little. He was the one who _lived_."

Phil swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked back tears. The Captain busied himself checking the pockets in his utility belt to give the other man a moment of privacy.

"Thank you" Phil finally managed.

The Captain nodded gently. "Is he- is your grandfather still with us?"

"He passed away nearly eight years ago."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

"I was lucky getting to spend time with him as I grew up. The stories he told me really shaped me. I had many people I looked up to, men and women who inspired me; they made me the man I am today. You're one of them." Phil said almost shyly.

The Captain smiled modestly.

"But _he_ was my hero. He was the best grandfather a kid could have. I wish he was here to see this."

Captain America smiled and patted Phil on the back.

_Fin_

_Author's notes: A little tribute to Phil 'Agent' Coulson. I took a liberty with the scene in the movie, where Steve seems to 'suit up' when he's on the Quinjet on the way to Stuttgart: I know Coulson isn't with them in that scene, but I felt it was essential for Phil to see his hero, Captain America, in full uniform, in order to facilitate an important conversation- that's the point I wanted to use. Also, I don't know much about Phil's back-story, so this is all speculative, but I thought it would be a nice way to explain his fanboy love of the Cap. Thanks for reading!_


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